Flowers in the Darkness
by MrPegasusSir
Summary: Drawn from and based around Okita's encounteer with Itou in Sekkaroku.


She was washing the sake bottles, rinsing them in the basin in the moonlit rose garden. She bent intently over her work, unaware that the moon's light, reflecting off moving glass and rippling water, shone in her face, creating a glow of unearthly loveliness.

Okita watched her silently, smiling, amid the roses. He liked to watch her. It was easy to go unnoticed by someone as guileless and determined as Chizuru. She had no secrecy in her, and therefore expected cunning from no one else; that was why he'd been so sure from the start that she was harmless. He loved her innocence.

She paused in her work with a sigh, sweeping her hair back out of her eyes, letting them catch the silver light. She looked so earnest and happy he wanted to laugh, but not in mockery. Simply, she gave him a sense of joy, that such innocence still existed in the world.

Someone was approaching, sandalled feet on the gravel. Souji melted silent back into shadows, stilled his breathing, waiting.

Itou, swaying hair blue black in the moonlight, wandering full of sake and his own importance into the rose garden. Souji saw him notice Chizuru and stop, eyes on her unwary back as she washed. His skin prickled all over, a wolf's hackles rising. His sword slipped into his hand unbidden; familiar, ready.

"And what," Itou's tones, silken as spider's threads, fell into the quiet. Chizuru started and turned. "Is a person such as yourself doing here...?"

Chizuru straightened, all helpfulness despite her fright, and watched his slow, purposeful advance. "Itou sensei?"

Souji stepped nearer, moving in silence. He'd seen Itou's eyes on Chizuru for a while, and as she served in the meeting hall his gaze had played constantly over her working figure, that annoying, amused superiority forming a plan. Souji had chosen patrol rather than socialise with the creature. He was no great drinker, and to watch Kondou's proud happiness in Itou's company soured his mood like nothing else. Kondou would hear no word against Itou. Not even from Souji.

So he'd decided to watch Chizuru, as he often did, a cure for his distemper. Until now.

Itou's shadow fell over her, the moon huge behind him, making unpleasant darknesses play over his face. His lips quirked, sensual lips, full as a woman's, loaded with knowledge and lies. Souji hated them.

Electric filled his sword arm. He tensed, wait. Wait.

"You're not a soldier," Itou continued, toying with the sash of his robe rather playfully, "So what...?" He moved forward, too close, shadowed eyes full of something even Chizuru couldn't mistake for warmth; she gasped.

A sound like tearing silk shocked her, the scene changed in a heartbeat. A sword, bright with moonlight, shone between her and Itou, a promise or a threat. Itou, unruffled, slid his eyes along its length from Souji's smiling face to the rose, cut in an instant and caught at the blade's tip, inches from Itou's face.

Itou's eyes rested back on Souji's, full of dark humour. Maybe he'd known Souji was there all along.

Maybe he hadn't cared. Or hadn't expected anyone to interrupt.

"It's because we have no flowers here, in this place of men." Souji let his voice fill with quiet menace despite his light tone. Ieto smiled, his eyes straying back along the sword to the helpless 'boy' cowering by the water. "So I thought I'd give you something to please your eye." Souji smiled ambiguously.

He had been one of the 'flowers', long ago. The bullying Kondou had sought to save him from had extended beyond beating and bruises. His innocence had been crushed out of him like a ruined bloom, so long ago. Maybe that was why Chizuru's was so precious to him.

The experience had altered him in every way. He hated men, except those he wanted to protect. He hated the knowledge in their eyes, as if they were clever for understanding how bodies worked. He hated the geisha in Shimabara, for their foolish smirking behind their hands, the endless dance of desire and fulfilment so obvious it bored him. And disgusted him. He couldn't watch the pretty Miko dance, because he'd seen their deflowering, organised and professional. There was no innocence, anywhere. He would protect the boys in the camp from interference in any way he could, until Shimabara ruined them. He'd saved pretty Heisuke numerous times, pushing the oblivious boy toward Sano and Shinpachi's very male company, where he'd be safe. And Saito...

Was another matter.

Itou reached out, fingers stroking the edge of the sword as he took the flower, and cradled it sensuously under his long nose, inhaling its scent. Souji covered a sneer with his smile, watching.

"Why, thank you. It's lovely." Attention entirely distracted from Chizuru, Itou gazed at Souji. "Rather heavy handed though, cutting it with a sword." His eyes fell on Souji's sinewy hands, still firm on the sword, and Souji grinned humourlessly.

"Well. Being rather...heavy handed is a feature of the Tennen Rishin ryu style," he said easily, deliberately provoking now. Itou almost shivered in anticipation. Souji turned to Chizuru, her face completely bewildered by the exchange, still cowering by the roses. He made his voice rough as if speaking to a servant. "You. You still have work to do, yes?"

"Sir!" Chizuru scrambled to her feet and fled. Souji watched her darkly into the house, to safety, before returning his attention to the problem at hand. He sheathed his sword quietly. Ieto, swaying a little under the influence of a lot of sake, blinked at the warrior before him, his manner now anything but flirtatious. Souji observed wryly that the man appeared if anything more aroused than ever by the implicit threat of Souji's silence.

"Goodnight, Okita Souji," Itou let ripples run through his tone, holding Souji's gaze as he turned toward his room. "Thank you for the flower." Souji watched him sway off and chuckled humourlessly to himself. He would place himself between Chizuru and harm, to whatever extent was necessary, but Itou would sleep cold tonight.

Souji prowled on through the garden a little aimlessly, finding himself outside Chizuru's room at last. He sat on the veranda, watching the light glow through the paper walls until she blew out the lamp, and remained quietly, studying the edge of his sword in the moonlight. He was aware, on the edges of his consciousness, of Hijikata passing by to check on Chizuru's room, but a glance at Souji's silent and voluntary vigil appeared to reassure him and he left. Saito also walked unaccountably by, though the room was not on his route. Souji hoped he'd keep well away from Ieto tonight, as that was another direction the man's eyes tended to wander.

Someone else he wanted to protect.

Kondo san was easy to explain, Souji's fervent loyalty was born of a child's gratitude and respect, and he was worthy, absolutely, but also, weirdly innocent. Souji felt a violent devotion to the man, and would cheerfully put his safety before his own, but Saito...

It was an innocence of a peculiar kind. Controlled, contained, silent, Saito's character was almost the opposite of his own, but Souji sensed a vulnerability in his friend that he also wanted to protect. Saito's rejection by his own, and by the fraternity of warriors he most longed to be part of, had created a painful loneliness that hung around him always, a cloak that isolated him. Souji teased and toyed with him, but only because it made him smile, which nothing else did. He liked him to smile. Souji would have liked everyone to smile, as innocent as Chizuru, as the children he played with, innocent as Kondou.

He would protect whatever he could.


End file.
